


Definitely Not Morbid Angel

by 1307



Series: Guys Being Dudes [1]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1307/pseuds/1307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chibs goes to check on Juice when he goes missing.</p><p>\\\///</p><p>my fav madison gave me a prompt and here we are with this (part of this comes from our extensive headcanon list)<br/>this takes place whenever you want it to<br/>if sutter doesn't care about timelines neither do i~<br/>it's my first ~published chibs/juice fanfic so please don't be a huge dickface or i'll probably cry</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitely Not Morbid Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madison (idk what her ao3 is or if she even has one but this is for her)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=madison+%28idk+what+her+ao3+is+or+if+she+even+has+one+but+this+is+for+her%29).



Chibs wasn’t sure what started this pattern of Juice disappearing for days at a time without telling anyone; but it was starting to worry him. Juice had never been the most stable of his brothers, not that anyone really paid it any mind. A couple of the guys would make comments about how Juice was always the one cleaning up in the clubhouse after a party, even after his time as a prospect, how he always scrubbed that one spot on the bar that had been stained for years. But no one took it seriously, they just ignored it.

As he pulled down Juice’s street, Chibs saw the familiar black bike sitting the in the driveway, the helmet hanging from the mirror. He pulls up and parks his bike next to it and waits for a minute with his engine going, hoping Juice would come out on his own and he wouldn’t be forced to go inside, who knows what he was doing. He could have a girl over for all he knew, and what’s more embarrassing than being mid-thrust when your best friend waltzes in to make sure you aren’t dead?

Chibs cuts his engine and climbs off, leaving his helmet on the mirror before heading up to the door.

The sound of a bassy beat was coming through the wall and it wasn’t like anything Chibs had known Juice to listen to. Usually it was metal all the time, loud guitars and people yelling. Sometimes when he would go with Juice on tow truck runs it was nearly too much for Chibs to handle. This was definitely not Morbid Angel. He knocks loudly, hoping it wouldn’t resort to getting his keys out. There’s no answer and Chibs knocks again, this time a little louder. Still no answer. Chibs sighs and digs the small key ring from his front pocket and finds Juice’s key.

Chibs prays that he’s not walking in on Juice fucking some croweater when he slides the key in the lock and turns it, waiting a second before turning the handle and pushing it open. A small creak was barely even noticeable over the music.

He walked through Juice’s clean living room; everything was in its usual order. The green blanket was folded four times (Chibs knew it had to be four because one time he got cold while they watched some awful movie and got yelled at when he just threw it over the back of the couch) was on the right arm, the remotes were sitting next to his Harley Davidson coffee table book all in a row. The house had an overbearing smell of vinegar mixed with the smell of Pine Sol.

The music was coming from the living room, Chibs noticed the TV was lit up, a blue square in the middle with _Beyonce – Blow – Beyonce_. Definitely not Morbid Angel. Chibs thinks about turning the TV off, just so he can think, but then he hears the sound of a cabinet close in the kitchen. He shoves his keys back in his pocket and walks the few feet forward until he gets to the entrance of Juice’s kitchen, he peeks inside and sees Juice dancing in front of his stove, spray bottle in one hand and sponge in the other.

Amused was not even the tip of the iceberg for the emotions Chibs was feeling. He wished he had a better phone so he could record this and show it to the guys later; but all he had was his burner and the camera didn’t even work on it.

_I'm about to get into this girls,_

_This is for all my grown women out there,_

_I can't wait till I get home so you can tear that cherry out; turn that cherry out, turn that cherry out._

Juice shakes his hips in those ridiculous baggy work pants he wears and sprays down his cup cabinet with a thin mist before taking the sponge to it, wiping the face horizontally until he can’t reach anymore, he turns and faces the kitchen table and brings the spray bottle up and mouths along with the music. _I can’t wait till I get so you can tear that cherry out; turn that cherry out!_

Chibs lets a snort of laughter escape from his mouth before he realizes that he’s not supposed to be here.

Juice turns and looks at him. “What the fuck?” He exclaims and lets his grip on the bottle loosen, nearly dropping it.

“Did I interrupt?” Chibs asks with a smirk on his face.

“I was cleaning.” Juice sighs and walks to his kitchen table and sets the spray bottle down. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

“Came to check on ya, let myself in.” Chibs shrugs and walks over to stand next to Juice. “Haven’t been around in a couple of days.”

“I know.”

“I’m,” Chibs starts, but changes his mind. “we’re worried about you.”

“I’m okay, really.”

Chibs isn’t sure if he believes Juice 100%, as he does this all the time. He goes away, says he’s fine, and that’s it. Juice doesn’t elaborate and Chibs doesn’t push. “Okay.”

“Don’t tell the guys about this?” Juice asks. “I get enough shit already.”

Chibs nods in agreement simply because he doesn’t think any of the guys would believe him. “Yeah.” He grabs Juice’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug. “You don’t got to talk, just stop leaving.” Chibs mumbles against his tattoo.

“Okay I won’t.” Juice pulls back out of the hug and lets Chibs plant a kiss on his forehead, a normal sign of affection.

“Want to grab dinner or something?” Chibs asks. “Since I’m here.”

“Yeah.” Juice nods and swallows the lump in his throat. “Sounds good.” He wasn’t sure if now of all times would be the appropriate time to tell Chibs why he was avoiding him; his small crush that had actually started years ago when he was prospecting that had suddenly changed. It went from a school yard crush into a full-fledged desire that burnt his tummy up whenever Chibs’ presence was even so much as alluded to. It happened so quickly that Juice wasn't even sure how to process it, so he would take breaks from being around him.

Chibs heads to the door. “Let’s go, Juice-y, got to get there before the old people.”

“Wait.” Juice states, his voice cracking a little.

Chibs turns around, standing in the middle of the archway and looks at Juice expectantly as Juice walks towards him, apprehension on his face.

“You know how old people—” Chibs starts but is cut off by Juice kissing him, his hands on either side of Chibs’ face, thumbs ghosting over his scars, standing on his tip toes. It’s quick and painless, merely milliseconds before Juice pulls back, hands still on his cheeks. “Are.” Chibs finishes his sentence.

Juice gives him a confused look, a perfect blend of his mouth slightly hanging open and his eyebrows furrowed.

Beyonce was still playing in the background, by now it had changed to another song. “Juice-y…” He trails off, looking at Juice’s face, and suddenly things are starting to come together.

“That’s why.” Juice mumbles. “You’re why.”

“I’m why,” Chibs nods. “you disappear.”

Juice nods. “Yeah.”

“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”

“I don’t either.”

Chibs figures he might as well kiss him because they had already crossed that line and he wasn’t totally opposed to Juice’s mouth being on his; at least he knew Juice’s mouth wasn’t disgusting, which is more than he could say for some of the other people he’s kissed. He leans in and catches Juice's lips with his and grabs the back of Juice’s neck, bringing Juice closer. Juice’s hands end up under Chibs’ kutte, smooth against the fabric of his black v-neck. Chibs pulls back first, only slightly moving his hand. “So dinner?” He asks. “We’ll talk about this?”

Juice, having lost the ability to speak, just nods enthusiastically.

**Author's Note:**

> it's mentioned in the fic but the song Juice is listening to is "Blow" By Beyonce and I must've listened to it 20 times since writing this. It's now stuck in my head.  
> Kutte = cut, it's the same thing (i put this here because in 99.9% of the fics i read they use 'cut'; basically it's here in case you're like 'wtf is this lady talking about'  
> Morbid Angel is a real band, never listened to them but they exist.


End file.
